


church bells ringing in the distance

by obelus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brother Love, Dying Dean, Episode: s11e23 Alpha and Omega, Gen, Grief/Mourning, POV Sam Winchester, Platonic Soulmates, Suicidal Sam, but just a little for like two sentences, but y'all knew that, i got really emotional and had to write this, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 02:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7024174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obelus/pseuds/obelus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>11.23 coda(ish)</p>
            </blockquote>





	church bells ringing in the distance

“You won’t carry the bomb; you’ll _be_ the bomb.”  
It’s a punch to Sam’s gut when he hears it; it’s infinitesimal and all that matters and he can’t do anything to stop it. Either way, they both die.  
So he ducks his head, hides his tears, and off they go to visit Mary’s grave. Dean had declared that it was his dying wish to see her with a signature bravado grin and Sam had turned away because it was all too much.  
When Sam and Dean arrive at the graveyard, Chuck, Crowley, Rowena, and Cas are already there, waiting a little ways away from Mary’s grave. Chuck had been gracious enough to give Sam and Dean some alone time in the Impala while he zapped the rest of the crew to the cemetery. During which, the brothers had said nothing while Sam stared fixedly out the window, fighting the urge to scream.  
They climb out of the car slowly, Sam savoring the feel of the passenger seat after realizing he won’t ride in it again.   
Standing at his mother’s grave, Sam swears he can feel her spirit, her memory, _something_ in the dirt and grass beneath him, and he longs for the beginning. For a time when their biggest worry was how to exorcise demons and killing ghosts and finding Dad. But now… God. The Darkness. And Dean is going to _blow himself up._  
“Dean…, you know, you don’t have to do this,” Sam forces out and it feels like a lie but he wants it to be true _so badly._ Knows that _Dean_ must know that Sam would die happily if Dean backed out and the Sun blew up, because Sam could never hold it against him. And yet he knows, he knew, before he even spoke, that Dean would never-   
“‘Course I do. I just have to get close. I can do that, okay?” Dean pauses with that smile-grimace he does when he’s trying to stay strong for Sam, but still trying to convince himself. “...I can do that.”  
Sam is silent for a long second, knowing he needs to say something but not sure what. “You know, if this works…” Damn him and his emotions. “Uh, if that bomb goes off…” Suddenly, Sam can’t finish his sentence or he’ll break down; that he’s sure of. So he stands and fixates on his mother’s headstone, fighting tears as his throat works.   
“I know.” _Me too._  
A hand clasps his shoulder and Dean is gone, leaving Sam alone by a chunk of granite. Sam isn’t sure if he’d meant to say _I love you_ , or, _I will follow you_ , but he figures they’re both accurate. Dean understood even if Sam didn’t. He presses a feather light kiss full of prayers and goodness and grief to Mary’s gravestone with a trembling hand.   
Sam sidles closer to the Impala, watching Dean, no doubt, saying goodbye to Cas. Wondering if he’d missed his chance for a hug as Dean spouts some shit about his own funeral. As if Sam will be able to do that.  
But then Dean’s fishing in his pocket for the keys to the Impala and he’s walking over and Sam just _can’t. No friggin’ way._ He’s trembling and shaking his head while his vision blurs and it feels like Dean’s already gone.  
“You know the drill, c’mon. No chick flick moments.” The corner of Dean’s mouth is tugging upwards and it’s a poor imitation of the past. Sam just wants to die. Well, you know.  
He takes the keys.  
“Yeah, you love chick flicks,” Sam says, somehow managing a tearful smile.  
Something in Dean’s expression changes. “Yeah, you’re right. I do. C’mere,” Dean says, and it doesn’t even sound like a joke. His hands are reaching towards Sam’s neck and Sam collapses into his big brother, clutching his jacket for dear life and burying his nose in Dean’s shoulder.   
There’s an ache, a hole, a _need_ inside his chest his stomach his veins and he will never fill it; not now. Sam knows that, and he knows that it’s his brother he needs.  
_“I love you,”_ he whispers into Dean’s shoulder, just to try it out. If it’s his last chance while they’re alive. What he really means is, _I love you more than anything. More than me, more than the world, and I can’t live without you. You complete me. Please, don’t ever leave me._ Sam doesn’t know if Dean hears him, but he knows Dean understands anyway.  
It’s the last time he’ll ever touch his brother, the last time he’ll _see_ him, and Sam wants to hold him impossibly tighter and never let go. But he does, and it’s surreal when Dean disappears with a flick of the fingers.  
It’s surreal the whole drive to the bar; Dean is gone. It’s surreal waiting for the world to end or the Sun to live. Dean’s not there. It’s the most surreal when the world is fixed and the Sun subsides from orange-pink to white, and Sam knows his brother is dead. There’s no flash; no bang. Just a shift of the light, and Sam’s world is gone. He blinks up at the glaring light and wonders how his faith could have cost him so much.   
Castiel drives Sam home. Sam almost cries handing him the keys to the Impala, and the angel just looks at him.  
“Oh, Sam,” his voice rumbles, too sympathetic, and Sam gets in the backseat without looking up, because the front would be all wrong.  
He spends the car ride not thinking about sunshine and tacos and blood and stitches and laughter and crying and valet parking.   
Suddenly, they’re in the bunker and Sam feels like he’s filled with rocks as Cas talks in the background. Sam doesn’t really want to hear it. Every step is a mile and he needs to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, for now. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice her until Cas is gone in a flash of light. Sam suddenly misses him and thinks, now is not the time.  
She’s levelling a gun at him and Sam is being reckless and he knows it, but he can’t seem to stop. He can’t seem to muster up any concern for himself, either, and Sam thinks, this isn’t the worst way to die. Her finger twitches on the trigger, and he closes his eyes.


End file.
